Wildflower
by lucefatale
Summary: Sophie Kane is a survivor. After a school shooting kills her beloved father, and a few years later her mother passes away from a broken heart, she is left with scars and a post traumatic stress disorder, quickly losing the spark that keeps her going. A trip to Italy may just be the change she needs for her heart to finally begin healing.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, guys! For those who are readers of my other stories, I'm not forgetting them (just lacking in inspiration currently, haha). Hopefully I will be able to update them soon! For those interested Sophie's face claim is loosely based on Logan Browning.**

 **Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to favourite, follow, and review!**

Chapter One: The Prologue

I remember it had been cold that day. The last leaves of Autumn had fallen from the trees, and Jack Frost was spreading his wintery grasp across the town.

I hadn't felt great that morning, so like all grumpy, tired teenagers I'd complained to my parents. That thing that all teenagers do, when you don't get yourself ready for school and then lounge into the kitchen, pulling your best oscar-worthy performance. You groan, moan, and whimper, until one of your parents break, roll their eyes, and give into you. They'll listen to your moans, lay a hand against your forehead, inform you that, no, you don't have a temperature and, yes, you do have to go to school.

You huff at the injustice, and continue to moan until finally, they negotiate. Go to school, see how you feel at lunch, and if you still feel unwell then? Fine, you can come home then. It's the best offer you'll get.

I did all that. Probably threw a performance worthy of Meryl Streep, if I do say so myself. Still got me the same result. But all I wish... I wish that I could go back and have a family breakfast, no moans or groans, just Mom, Dad, and I.

Dad came to pick me up at lunch time, after I got the school nurse to excuse me for the rest of the day. Turns out I didn't need it at all. We were both stood outside the nurse's room, just down the hall from the school reception when it happened.

We heard the gunshots before we saw him. I remember the fear in my father's eyes, as he desperately took in the features on my face, memorising it one last time. His hands shook as they wrapped around my shoulders, as he whispered in my ear, telling me that whatever happened, he loved me.

He started urgently pulling me down the corridor but it was too late. The crazed gaze of the gunman locked onto my father, who stood before me, doing his best to shelter my terrified frame.

It's a struggle to clearly remember the next moments. My therapist likes to tell me that it's my brain blocking the memory in order to prevent any further trauma. I disagree. It's difficult to remember it clearly, because of how fast it occurred.

One moment my strong, brave father was blocking me from the gunman's aim, the next he was slumping over my body, his weight collapsing us on the floor. I remember his voice quietly hissing at me to play dead. I remember wanting to reply, but fear of pain, fear of dying, fear of losing my father kept me silent. Kept my body frozen.

Later I would learn the gunman's name was Jimmy Holt. He was a 38 year old mechanic, who'd just lost custody of his 9 year old daughter to his ex-wife. An act that had made something within him snap. Something that, to him, justified storming my small high school in Ripley, Washington. Something that justified fatally shooting 15 people, and critically injuring 6 others. The newspapers called it a massacre, yet would report how lucky it was that more people weren't harmed. How lucky it was that the school was on lunch break, and that many of the students were outside the building. They said that it could have been so much worse, had Jimmy not been shot dead on sight by police. But by the time Jimmy was dead, it was too late.

It had taken a while for my body to register the deliriously excruciating pain I felt, both physically and mentally. My dad was shot in his stomach three times, each shot further up his torso, whilst I was shot in my left shoulder and upper arm. It would be only ten more minutes before my father succumbed to his injuries. He never even made it to the hospital.

The time between the shooting and the hospital all seemed to blur into one. I remember so much chaos. A flurry of pain and noise seemed to darken my vision. Sirens, screaming, tears. The controlled panic of the paramedics, trying to stop me from bleeding out as we sped towards the hospital.

And then darkness.

I would awaken to find my mother, in a state I had never before seen; unwashed, bedraggled, and her face drawn and gaunt. Apparently I was in a coma for three months, and I remained in the hospital for a further two. They told me I was lucky to be alive. The two bullets that penetrated my body had been removed, but they would leave a lasting effect. It took several weeks to fully figure out the damage, but my left shoulder and upper arm movement would forever be considerably restricted due to the damage caused by the bullets. And, as a cherry on top of an already ruined cake, the wounds would leave significant permanent scarring, the angry red wounds easily standing out from my tawny brown skin.

I don't think the nurses knew how to handle my hysterical crying intermixed with hysterical laughter. The shock of everything - my father was dead, a large number of my school peers were dead, and then me, almost dead but pulled through - grabbed me by the nonexistent balls, and refused to relinquish me for several days.

My mother was just happy I was alive. She didn't care that I was damaged, she just cared that I was still speaking, still with a beating heart. The loss of my father had taken its toll on her, but she persisted - she wanted to make sure she was there for me when I woke up.

Once I was discharged from the hospital, we made the decision to move out of Ripley, to start afresh. We stayed close within Washington, moving to Port Angeles, so that we could stay close to Dad's grave, but far enough that we wouldn't feel bogged down by the memories that clouded over Ripley.

Going back to school wasn't even an option to my mother. She was terrified of a similar incident happening again, so she took it upon herself to homeschool me through the rest of my high school years. I was happy to agree with her, I had no interest in walking into another high school anytime soon.

After I graduated, I was stuck in something of a rut. I tried going to college, but I soon realised that it was a place that wouldn't work for me. Too many memories, too many fears, too many possible triggers. I learnt the hard way after a couple of insensitive, childish students learnt about my past, and thought it would be funny to set off a series of firecrackers, and gun sounds. They sent me into a near comatose state, my panic attack trapping me in my own mind, sending me back to that horrible day. My terrified screams and loud sobs were caught on video and thanks to the outrage of a large number of students and teachers, the perpetrators were disciplined and lost their scholarships. That day was the last day I ever set foot on a college campus.

And then, when I turned 22, my mother passed away. The doctor told me her heart just gave up. But my therapist reminded me that I can't - I can't give up, I have to stay strong. And I am, well, at least I think I'm staying strong. It's not always easy, but then when I remember my kind, brave father, and my warm, caring mother, I know that they wouldn't want me to dwell on the negatives. They'd push me to live, to grasp each opportunity, each moment I can. So that's what I'm doing.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Don't forget to favourite, follow, and review! Hope you enjoy x**

Chapter Two

Dr Kowalski stared thoughtfully at me, tapping her pen against her leather bound chair.

"You're going to Italy?" She questioned.

I nodded, returning the Doctor's stare unblinkingly.

"What's in Italy, Sophie?"

"Hot Italians?" I shrugged a little lopsidedly, the left side of my body unable to move up properly, as a small smile danced on my full lips.

"Hmm."

I sighed, grumbling lightly to myself, knowing that the Doctor wanted me to lead the session.

"I thought it might be good to escape for a little while. I need some new perspective and I thought it might give me some fresh inspiration for my work."

"Ah, yes, you're a... an artist and illustrator, is that correct?" Dr Kowalski ran a bespectacled eye down the folder she clutched in her lap. I rolled my eyes inwardly - I had been seeing the woman for six months now. Dr Kowalski inherited me from the clinic's previous therapist, an elderly racist gentleman called Dr Jerrold, who smelt of tobacco, whisky, and unfortunately not much else.

"Yes, Dr." I nodded in reply. Dr Kowalski merely raised a sparse grey eyebrow, before she sighed heavily and folded her leathery hands in her lap.

"Listen, Sophie. We're coming to the end of your scheduled sessions, in fact I do believe today's session is the last. But I want you to remember the clinic door is always open." Dr Kowalski's voice carried across the open space of her office with ease.

"Sure thing, Dr."

Another heavy sigh.

"I also want you to keep in mind those breathing exercises I taught you as well as the distraction techniques. Remember, Sophie, PTSD is nothing to be ashamed of - but you don't want to feed the flames. Help yourself as best as you can, don't isolate yourself."

Whilst I nodded to acknowledge her words, on the inside she was rolling her eyes. It was easy for the Doctor to say, the old coot. You try having a panic attack in the middle of the mall and then tell me I shouldn't isolate myself.

"Are you still having these... awareness issues?" She questioned thoughtfully.

"I- I hardly know anymore." I mumbled out my words. "It's difficult to say, because most of the time I'm fine and time passes me by normally, and then... Whenever my emotional state is, I don't know, heightened... And I'm angry or sad or panicked, it seems to happen again." I stared out of the window, my right hand mindlessly rubbing at my left shoulder.

It had happened again, only one week prior to today's appointment. I had dropped by my local coffee shop, intent on buying the largest possible caffeinated drink I could find, when a young man knocked into me. The movement surprised me enough that my fingers fumbled around my warm drink, the disposable cup slipping through my grip.

I'd gasped out, swearing harshly under my breath. However, as I'd quickly jolted down to catch the cup, I could've sworn that it wasn't moving at the rate you might expect of a large cup, full to the brim with hot coffee. I easily grabbed it, much to the shock of the man who bumped into me.

"Woah," He'd blinked at me in surprise. "Quick reflexes you got there."

The only response he had received from me was a weak shrug, and a half assed glare as I told him to watch where he was going.

I'm still not entirely sure what the whole thing is, though Dr Kowalski's pretty convinced it's just a lapse in my concentration, almost like a daydream and nothing to worry about.

When I left Dr Kowalski's beige and putrid green office, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders at the relief that I was no longer obligated to attend these sessions. God knows it had been long enough. As I walked down the quiet, brightly lit hall of Forks Hospital's clinic, I wasn't paying enough attention and accidentally walked into the back of a tiny, petite teenager.

I was about to apologize quietly and head off, but the dark haired girl stared unfocused at me with a glazed, far off look. I stared at her in confusion, as she snapped out of her trance, her bright amber eyes widening dramatically.

"Oh!" A small exclamation escaped her dainty lips. A bizarre combination of what seemed like shock, horror, and then hope flickered across her elfin features.

"Sorry, um, are you ok?" I asked the girl cautiously. I took a stumbling step backwards as the girl suddenly darted forwards, closing the gap between us. I held my hands up to keep her from moving any closer. You can never be too careful with the people you meet in hospital corridors.

"You're it, you really are it, the one they've waited for..." I heard her mumbling under her breath, likely not intending me to hear her. Her vacant gold eyes locked onto me tight, as her pale, freezing cold hand grabbed my wrist. I winced in shock, a grunt of pain slipping from my lips at the tight grip she had on me.

"You're going to Italy?" She asked me, a questioning lilt to her words.

I could only stare at this pale, creepy girl suspiciously, wincing as she tightened her freezing cold grip on my wrist, seemingly unaware how painful her hold was.

"How in the fuck did you kno-" I drew out slowly, my hazel-green eyes narrowed at the stranger causing me such pain.

"Take a trip to Volterra." She cut me off, hissing urgently at me. Any trace of a young teenager seemed to have vanished from her unnatural eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"Volterra!" She hissed again, her gold eyes somehow darker, sending me warning vibes. I paused slightly as I stared at her, confused as to how she knew about Italy, and why in hell she seemed so invested in my trip.

The tiny girl's eyes glazed over again, before her stare flickered to the end of the hall. She released my wrist, and skipped off down the hall, meeting an older, golden haired man who looked only a couple of years older than myself at the end of the hall. I recognised the man almost instantly even though I'd never met him. I'd heard enough of the hospital and clinic gossip to know that it was Dr Cullen, a man whose good looks and comparisons to Greek Gods definitely weren't exaggerated. I saw his eyes look between the girl and I briefly, before they flickered lower and widened in horror.

I was confused until I glanced down and realised he was staring at my wrist. My wrist, which was normally a soft tawny brown complexion, was mottled and quickly bruising a rich purple colour, in the shape of a handprint. I visibly blanched in shock, running my fingers carefully over the blotchy, tender bruising of the skin, shocked that such an injury was caused by the petite girl.

The Doctor turned towards the girl, a furious expression gracing his handsome features. His lips seemed to blur as he whispered heatedly at the girl. She only sent him an unapologetic look, and then whispered something quick in his ear before rushing off.

At her parting words, Dr Cullen's back seemed to straighten rigidly as he gazed back at me in equal parts shock and pity. Walking towards me, his shoes squeaked against the lino flooring as he neared closer to me.

"My sincerest apologies for my daughter. She was merely overexcited and unfortunately she is not great at handling it. Would you like me to take a look at your wrist?" He glanced regretfully at the bruise.

"Don't worry, I've had worse. I'm not even going to pretend I understand what just happened, but no matter. We were all teenagers once. Even if I never accosted a stranger." I raised an eyebrow at the uncomfortable Doctor.

"Yes, well, my daughter is... special."

Oh. Ohhh. The blond bombshell need say no more. Of course, there was bound to be a reason that she was in the clinic, considering her father tends to work over in the main hospital.

"Ah, gotcha, Dr." I gave him what I hoped was an understanding nod. My therapist had an unfortunate habit of addressing certain patients and visitors of the clinic as 'special'. Incredibly un-pc and condescending but the woman seemed stuck in the 1950's, and I did not see it falling to me to be the one who dragged her out of it kicking and screaming.

As I left the hospital that afternoon, I found myself thinking once more about Italy. I had already packed most of my clothing and art supplies that I planned to take. All that was left was to catch the plane there, in two days time.

Once home, I decided to wrap up the steadily darkening bruise with a light bandage. The handprint shape would no doubt beg a few questions, whether from worried strangers or nosy neighbours, and I had no wish to deal with them before I left. Hopefully the bruise would begin to heal within a few days anyway, though that may be wishful thinking. Perhaps a week or two would be more likely.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Don't forget to favourite, follow, and review! Hope you enjoy x**

Chapter Three

There was something to be said for the warm sun and the Mediterranean air. It only took 3 days in Italy for me to begin feeling a change in myself. It almost felt like for the past few years I'd been submerged, drowning in my memories and my trauma. And now, in this new land, this fresh life, I could finally breathe again.

I found myself incredibly glad that I was under no time constraints, I hadn't booked a return ticket to the States yet. I was living out of my large rucksack, travelling and moving from place to place, booking into cheap hostels. I could afford to travel like this for several months, after the many years I'd spent saving every single penny I possibly could, waiting for this moment.

After beginning my trip in Lake Como, my inspiration took me south to Verona, then onto Bologna, stopping off in small villages and towns in between. I filled nearly three sketchbooks to the brim just in those first two weeks.

I immediately fell in love with Florence the moment I had stepped off the rackety, cramped bus that I'd been travelling in for several hours. I'd spent two days straight wandering around the Uffizi, taking my time as I absorbed all of the artworks and the numerous cultural masterpieces. Of course, I made time to go and visit Michelangelo's David at the Galleria dell'Accademia. Not sure what it says about me as a person, when all I could really focus on were his less than impressive genitalia, even though the sculpture was truly stunning.

It was at the beginning of my fourth week, as I was wrapping up my time in Florence, that I found it. I was perusing a map, marking out my next leg of the journey and looking at the smaller towns and cities near Florence.

Volterra. Just southwest of Florence. According to a local guidebook I managed to pick up, Volterra was a small walled town with medieval frescoes, stunning architecture and beautiful ruins. I couldn't deny that my attention was a little piqued by the more popular attractions in the town; the Volterra Museum of Torture, Guarnacci Museum, and Palazzo dei Priori.

Everything I had read suggested that this little town would be something that appealed to me. It was only the small nagging feeling in the back of my brain that had me on edge.

That girl, Doctor Cullen's daughter. She had been so insistent about this place, bordering almost threatening. She left a queasy feeling in my stomach, my anxiety sending twinging pains shooting through my left shoulder. I still had a bruised wrist from her hard grip, the purpling handprint had faded a little, however to any who saw it the mark was still clear as day. Although it was a bit of a nuisance in the Mediterranean heat, I had taken to keeping it wrapped in the bandage.

Volterra.

I shook my head firmly. I couldn't let one girl ruin my holiday. If I wanted to go to Volterra, it wasn't because of some weird white girl I met in the hospital.

The bus ride from Florence to Volterra ended up taking just an hour and a half, improving my mood tenfold, as on the map I'd anticipated the journey being far longer. But the trip was made all the better the moment I stepped off the bus, and immediately fell in love with the town.

I was so lost in my admiration that when a middle aged woman shoved into me, I was pushed off balance and headed directly to the cobbled pavement. I yelped, jamming the palms of my hands out in front of my body, to catch myself against the cobblestones, instead of doing a full face plant.

The hard impact against the stone was jarring against my left shoulder, my old wound flaring up painfully. I glanced down to see my palms scraped and tender.

"For fucks sake!" I groaned. "Watch where you're going!" I struggled as I pushed myself up off the floor, focusing on supporting my weight with my right arm. I swear, one of these days I need to buy myself a fluorescent jacket, if that's what it'll take for people to actually see me and walk around me, like a normal human being.

I tossed my head, shifting my curls out of my face, the large mass of hair bouncing gently around me. Through my hair, I could see the middle aged lady bending down slowly as if to help me, yet at the rate she was moving, I'd probably die of old age by the time she actually reached me.

"Seriously." I eyed her in disbelief, and pulled myself up from the floor. As soon as I was back on my slightly wobbly feet, the woman immediately started moving again, straightening herself up and blinking owlishly between me and where I had fallen on the floor.

"But you were? I don't... How did...?" The woman stared at me in confusion, her head practically spinning. She pointed an aged, sun spotted hand at me. "How did you do that?"

"Do what? Stand up?" The irritation in my voice bled through my words, as I readjusted my grip on my large rucksack.

"Well, no! But you..." She bristled at me. "You were down there, and then you weren't!" Her large, bug eyed sunglasses slipped down her beaky nose. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Look, lady." I sighed, beginning to feel the heat. "You probably just lapsed in concentration. I mean, you clearly weren't paying attention when you smacked me into the floor, hm?"

I left the woman spluttering and squawking indignantly as I moved off in search of shade.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Don't forget to favourite, follow, and review! This chapter has been updated to include translations of the Italian at the bottom of the chapter (thank you to the guest reviewer for commenting on it!) I will only be including translations of full sentences, not single words/ greetings/ or endearments etc. Hope you enjoy x**

Chapter Four

The elderly Italian couple who ran Volterra's small, low budget hostel, Antonio and Loredana D'Agostino, were incredibly kind and welcoming to me the moment I stepped through their tattered yellow doors. The hostel, whilst cheap and in a great location, looked like it had seen far better days. The tiled floor was chipped and dulled from years of feet trampling across it, and the overall appearance was rather shabby.

However, if you looked a little closer, you could see the hard work the older couple had clearly invested in their hostel. Because, although it was worn, the place was clean and tidy, the foyer sweet and welcoming.

"It's a shame we not have more young men staying, no?" Loredana winked at me over a cup of coffee. Even after having been here for two days, I still couldn't keep up with Loredana's excessive caffeine intake. Nor her sudden interest in getting me laid.

"It's a shame we not have more people staying, full stop, eh?" Her husband grumbled behind the morning newspaper, glancing wistfully at the mostly empty visitor's book that rested against the wood of the front desk.

" _Famiglie, amici, amanti, turisti_... They all come for a day, one day! They come on big coach to eat gelato and eat a pizza, then back to Pisa or Florence _, o un grande albergo stupido ed elaborato nella città!_ " Loredana spat indignantly, her coffee cup clattering against the saucer.

"But you! Ah, _mia bellissima ragazza_ , you do right. You stay! You draw, _si osserva._ You learn!" She grinned toothily at me, gesturing at my sketchbook, currently sat in my lap as I doodled. I glanced down to see I had doodled a crude drawing of a penis and balls and winced. Loredana followed my embarrassed gaze and peered into my lap.

"Eh, you observe and learn most of time." Loredana cackled as I quickly slammed the sketchbook closed, my cheeks flushed red.

" _Grazie_ , Loredana." I cleared my throat in embarrassment, smiling at her sheepishly. "Thank you for the wonderful breakfast this morning. It was delicious."

"Pah, pah!" Loredana wafted her hand at me, nudging me out of my seat. "Now go! There is so much to see, you should not waste your time _parlando ai vecchi sciocchi piace Antonio ed io,_ eh?"

Antonio snorted, " _Parli per te, vecchia donna."_ Loredana gasped at him dramatically, smacking him softly on the arm. After they started bickering lightheartedly in very fast Italian, I quietly excused myself. I think, alongside my drawing and adventuring, it might not be a bad idea to try and learn to speak Italian.

The day moved along quickly. Whilst the sun shone brightly throughout the warm morning, by lunchtime it was hidden behind soft, bright clouds. I packed up my work and ended up wandering through a small market by the piazza, casually looking over the different stalls.

I stopped by a mystical looking stall; lumps of gemstones, tarot cards, gorgeous smelling candles and incense, and a wonderful selection of beautiful vintage jewelry adorned the table. As I looked, I absentmindedly trailed my fingers across a selection of hanging scarves, feeling the soft fabrics with the pads of my fingers.

I startled slightly when I felt a gentle hand grasp my own. I flinched, drawing my hand away as I looked up and away from the jewelry. A deeply tanned woman, draped in numerous scarves, smiled back at me.

"Um, _buon pomeriggio, signora._ You have a beautiful stall." I nodded politely, a small smile on my lips. My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my left sleeve, itching to gently rub my shoulder and upper arm in comfort, a habit that had formed over the past few years.

" _I miei ringraziamenti a te, dolcezza."_ She replied warmly. Her whiskey coloured eyes twinkled at me mischievously. "Can I interest you in anything? Perhaps, a new ring?"

"Oh, no, I was just looking, thank you though." I felt a little unnerved by her, as when she looked at me, it felt like she was seeing far more than I might have expected. I murmured a soft goodbye as I moved to step away but she reached out to me once again, this time lightly tugging on my non-bruised wrist.

"Ah, _signora,_ please! A moment of your time!" She beckoned me to follow her behind her stall into a small tent. She disappeared through the opening before I could say a word.

"Ah, shit. I better not get murdered." I grumbled under my breath, reluctantly following her. The moment I stepped through into the tent I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. I think I might have found the Italian Mystic Meg. A shroud of darkness covered the tent, illuminated by soft candles. A small table held a glass ball which was cradled in a stunning bronze claw. However, the woman gestured me over to a small selection of pendants that hung off another well crafted bronze claw.

"Nice place." I commented dryly, eyeing the tent.

" _Gli affari di famiglia..."_ She murmured quietly in reply, the warm glow of a nearby candle casting a flickering light across her face. Her eyes stared me down, a thoughtful frown settling on her face.

" _Non posso sbagliarmi. So che ho ragione. Questo giorno è stato previsto per molte lune."_ The woman began muttering to herself. She shook her head, turning to the pieces of jewelry. Her tanned hand softly stroked a pendant holding a moonstone of some kind.

" _Sì, chiaramente. La pietra di trasformazione."_ She carefully lifted the pendant and turned towards me, a soft look on her face. "Please, accept this gift. For help and protection." She offered the necklace to me. I could see my eyes widen in the reflection of a golden mirror propped up behind her.

"Oh! I-I don't think-" I stuttered a little. "Please, at least allow me to..." As I pulled some euro's from my pocket, she promptly shook her head.

" _No, no, nessun pagamento, per favore. Sarebbe un onore, la mia signora."_ She moved behind me to secure the pendant around my neck. I restrained from pulling an unhappy face when she touched the curls of my hair to move them, so she could fasten the necklace.

"Oh..." I breathed out, my gaze locked on my reflection in the mirror. The pendant nestled between my breasts, the silver metal contrasting well against my tawny brown skin. I turned towards the woman, who stood to my side, smiling wistfully. "I... Thank you, _signora._ It's gorgeous. But, I don't understand, why?" I trailed off, chewing the plump flesh of my full bottom lip.

"Shh, why not, eh?" She winked at me. "It is labradorite. Or you might recognize it as rainbow moonstone?" I nodded in response.

"Yes." I gently touched the gemstone, feeling an odd, reassuring warmth.

"It is a stone of many properties... But it's energies shall boost your ability and sharpen your intuition. _L'aiuterà a divenire la persona Lei è destinato per essere."_ She cupped my cheek and held my left hand in her other hand. "Take care, young one, and do not fear that which you do not understand. _C'è sregolatezza in te, ragazza mia. Li mostri il fuoco all'interno di Lei... Accendi in loro il fuoco del tuo amore."_

A soft breeze blew through the tent, sending an odd shiver down my spine. It seemed to break the moment, as the woman released my hand and cheek stepping away respectfully.

"It is time for you to go, young one. _Buona fortuna, la mia signora."_ She bid me goodbye.

I'm sure I must have thanked her, but for the ten minutes following our encounter I seemed to space out, so when I found myself sat on an old stone bench in a quiet side alley, I felt a little unsettled. I glanced down at the curious piece of jewelry, the surface of the metal was cool against my chest. The large smooth lump of labradorite was set in a beautifully crafted piece of silver, held in place by three distinct claws, each carefully and thoughtfully designed.

I quickly stopped staring at it when I realized that anyone who saw me, might just think I was staring at and admiring my breasts. Of which, I mean, they are admirable, but I do have self restraint. Not that I had to worry as the alley was remarkably empty.

Or so I thought.

No less than ten seconds later, a man suddenly appeared in front of me, his stature practically looming over my seated self. This might have seemed reasonably normal and nothing to worry about, were it not for the fact that, a) he had bright, almost abnormally red eyes, and b) he was snarling and growling at me, in a way that I had only ever associated with dangerous, carnivorous animals.

I had barely a second to take in the man's bizarre, crazed appearance, before I was roughly slammed up against the cold stone of the wall that lined the alley.

My hands flew up, clawing at the man's cold hand wrapped around my throat that had me pinned against the wall, my feet kicking and flailing several inches above the cobbled floor.

"Hmm, aren't you a delicious little mortal." The man moved in close. He ran his tongue against the soft skin of my cheek, collecting the salty tear drops that had leaked from my eyes. His eyes fluttered closed perversely, only to spring back open when I attempted to kick him in his balls.

"Ah, ah, ah. That's not very nice now, is it?" He hissed, his grip on my neck tightening. My vision was quickly fading in and out as I wheezed and sobbed in panic. I couldn't breath, let alone vocalize any words, and clearly the son of a bitch knew that too.

"You owe me a little taste, you know? I was ready to leave, to run... And then your scent, hmm, my God, your scent." He snarled menacingly, a dark smirk praying on his lips. His blood red eyes trailed over the skin of my neck, the unwanted leer sending a chill through my bones, and causing me to buck against him, struggling as best I could with a restricted airway.

"Pl-ple... Pleasss... N-n... No..." I choked out painfully, my hands slipping each time I tried to push him away.

The man merely grinned and slammed me against the wall again, my head ringing. Panic flooded my chest as I whimpered and painful dry gasps broke out of my mouth.

A cool, emotionless voice broke through my terror, causing my attacker to freeze. He dropped me harshly, and I fell to the floor, landing badly on my already aggravated wounds, my left side banging against the stone with great force.

"Honestly, Gustavo. You would think that after all these years, you might have learnt."

Through my blurred, shaken vision I could make out two figures standing slightly further down the alley, both shrouded by long, old fashioned cloaks.

"What!" The man - Gustavo - hissed at the two figures.

"You always were distracted by a pretty face. It's just rather unfortunate that this time, it happened to be when you should have been running." The monotone, blankness of the young voice was terrifying. I struggled as I pushed myself off the floor into a seated position, pressing myself against the cold stone. My right hand, it's wrist still bandaged, gripped at my damn left shoulder, the pressure doing little to ease the agitated wound. Small whimpers of pain broke from me, but I muffled my mouth by biting into the crook of my right arm, determined not to draw back any attention to myself.

"Oh well. Too late now I suppose." There might have been a touch of underlying amusement in the voice, but it was hard to tell.

Of the two figures, the smaller one was the one speaking. The taller one just stood there menacingly, a pair of extremely large and brawny arms folded across his very, very broad chest. Well, guess we know who the muscle in this duo is.

"Goodbye, Gustavo." The small one spoke calmly, ignoring Gustavo's horrified cries and pleas.

In the blink of an eye, the tall man had detached his head, and pretty much most of his limbs. I gasped in horror and turned away, pressing my cheek against the biting cold of the stone wall. My eyes pressed shut tightly and I fought to regain control of my breathing. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to work, and I found myself gagging and retching, an action made all the more painful by my bruised throat.

Ominous footsteps moved closer towards me, causing me to spin around, struggling to stand. The two men stood before me, in a stance of power and intimidation. The smaller one, who only looked about fourteen years old at most, stared me down, whilst Mr Big looked at me with an oddly goofy grin. They both stayed unnervingly silent as they seemed to appraise me, their red eyes bright and vicious.

"Um, not that I can't say that he didn't deserve... Well, whatever that was but... What the fuck? Better yet, who... No, what the fuck are you?" I shuddered in pain, my entire body felt inflamed and sore. Shaky breaths wracked my body as I fought off an impending panic attack. "Just... Please don't hurt me." I tried to look angry and fierce, though the result was perhaps more of a deranged labradoodle.

"Alec? Shall I?" Mr Big glanced down at the boy, who only continued to stare at me. There was a brief pause before Alec spoke.

"No. You know the rules. We take her to the masters, they will decide."

There was a nagging feeling in the back of my brain telling me to just stay quiet and suffer through my pain and confusion in silence, but my dumbass mouth opened before I could stop it.

"Sorry, man, but I'm not really into that kinky shit."

The big, buff white guy barked out a laugh as he tugged me up, his hand firmly clamped onto my shoulder. I clamped my mouth shut to avoid crying out in pain as his cold, hard fingers pressed against the tender, scarred flesh in my shoulder.

"Come along, kitten. Its unfortunate that you likely won't have that sense of humour much longer." Mr Big smirked at me in a teasing manner, which was offset by the horrifying memory of him literally decapitating that other man who attacked me. Who the fuck can decapitate a person with his bare hands?

I was dragged through the side streets, keeping in the shade and away from prying eyes. Eventually, we marched through a set of beautifully made pillars and into a huge castle like building through an extravagantly engraved wooden door. My overwhelming pain was beginning to get to my head, making me a little lightheaded and dizzy, but Mr Big's tight grasp stopped me from falling to my knees.

Alec knocked on the door of another ridiculously extravagant door, and made his way in, Mr Big pushing me in behind him.

He dumped me on the cold, hard stone floor, granting me a moment of brief relief as his fingers released my shoulder. However, the throbbing soreness quickly returned just as bad, if not worse, agitated by the rough handling, and causing me to clutch at it once again, whimpering quietly in distress. My watery eyes were pressed shut, as I bent over trying to ease my discomfort.

My voluminous, curly hair bounced over and around my head, hiding my face from view- I knew, realistically, it would probably be within my best interest to actually take in my surrounding so that I can form some idea of what I'm dealing with. But I could feel the tell tale signs of an incoming panic attack, and was trying my utmost best to keep in control. This was all shot to hell, however, when a smooth, _new_ voice reached my ears, it's tone bordering both terrifying and delighted.

"Well, well. What do we have here?"

* * *

Translations:

 _Famiglie, amici, amanti, turisti_... - Families, friends, lovers, tourists...

 _o un grande albergo stupido ed elaborato nella città! -_ or a big, stupid and fancy hotel in the city!

 _parlando ai vecchi sciocchi piace Antonio ed io, -_ talking to old fools like Antonio and me,

 _Parli per te, vecchia donna. -_ Speak for yourself, old woman.

 _I miei ringraziamenti a te, dolcezza. -_ My thanks to you, sweetie.

 _Gli affari di famiglia... -_ The family business...

 _Non posso sbagliarmi. So che ho ragione. Questo giorno è stato previsto per molte lune. -_ I cannot be wrong. I know I'm right. This day has been coming for many moons.

 _Sì, chiaramente. La pietra di trasformazione. -_ Yes, of course. The stone of transformation.

 _No, no, nessun pagamento, per favore. Sarebbe un onore, la mia signora. -_ No, no, no payment, please. It would be an honour, my lady.

 _L'aiuterà a divenire la persona Lei è destinato per essere. -_ It will help you become the person you are destined to be.

 _C'è sregolatezza in te, ragazza mia. Li mostri il fuoco all'interno di Lei... Accendi in loro il fuoco del tuo amore. -_ There is a wildness in you, my girl. Show them the fire within you ... Light in them the fire of your love.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: A slightly shorter chapter here, but I'm planning to make chapter six much longer to make up for it. Don't forget to follow, favourite, and review! Hope you enjoy x**

Chapter Five

 _"Well, well, what do we have here?"_

Immediately my body tensed up, my spine stiffening from the chill that shot through me. That voice... It was rich and melodious, yet even I, oblivious as I can be, could pick up the dangerous edge that lurked behind it.

"Master Aro... We found the traitor Gustavo and he has been dealt with. However, before we could handle him, it came to our attention that he had attacked and exposed himself to this human female." I heard the boy, Alec, inform the man. "We have brought her to you, as per the rules."

I stayed as still as I could, trying to regulate my breathing and quiet my whimpers of pain. My eyes remained fixed on the stone flooring beneath me. _Human female?_ What the hell else could I be?

"Ah, _meraviglioso_! Now, now... What to do with you?" The man clearly spoke towards me but I kept my eyes down and my mouth shut, dampening any noises of pain. "May I see your hand, young one?"

Footsteps echoed throughout the room as he moved forward. _My hand?_ Does this creep have a hand fetish?

"Hm?" He prompted me. I refused to relinquish my hand, neither of them. My right hand clutched at my shoulder, whilst my bruised left hand rested limply on my lap.

The man, Aro, sighed in disappointment and made a tutting sound.

"Is she really worth it? The human's clearly a scared little coward." A new voice spat out harshly. I felt my anger and frustration begin to bubble up inside me.

"Felix?" The first man said.

The brawny man, Mr Big, or Felix as I now knew, moved so quickly I could barely register what happened. He fisted a cold hard hand in my curls, gripped them tight and yanked my head back, giving me no other option but to look at my captors as I cried out in pain. My vision was still a little blurred and unfocused from all the rough manhandling I had been victim to.

Despite this, my eyes flew up in anger, flickering over the tall man stood a few meters in front of me, and glancing at two other men sat on thrones - _thrones?!_ \- behind him.

"I am not scared, I am in pain, you assholes!" I exclaimed with a hiss, causing Felix to tighten his grip and drawing another whimper from me. I could feel the water building up in my eyes, and could only hope I wouldn't start crying in front of these men. My sudden bravado faded almost as quickly as it had come.

"Actually... That's a lie. I am scared, totally and utterly terrified and pretty much crapping myself, but I don't think I can really be to blame for that one." I continued to babble in a teary manner, the odd hiccuping sob breaking through. It was due to this that I failed to notice the look of shock on the three men's faces when I had made brief eye contact with their creepy as hell red eyes.

" _No!"_ Sharp hisses and gasps tore from the three men's throats as they leapt to their feet.

"Release her! _Adesso!"_ The taller dark haired man thundered out, his deep voice reverberating throughout the hall. I felt Felix loosen his stone grip on my hair and, with a wince, managed to catch myself on my sore hands before I face planted the stone floor. Glancing up at him, I saw the large man's face was filled with confusion, the younger boy, Alec, clearly just as bewildered. Both seemed at a loss as to why their bosses had so suddenly had a major attitude flip.

Not that I could blame them. I was starting to wonder if I was having a very vivid hallucinogenic trip. They glanced at each other in a perturbed fashion before their gaze flickered to me. I could only shrug back at them lopsidedly, equally baffled.

"Leave us immediately." The older blonde man snarled at the creepy - _Security_? _Guards? Mafia minions?_ \- people that stood around the room. When they glanced at each other in confusion, faltering in their actions, the blonde's eyes seemed to darken unnaturally.

"Be gone! _Muoversi!"_ He roared, his features twisted in a furious snarl. My body flinched away automatically in response to the dangerous sight, warning bells blaring in my head.

The room emptied within the second, as if the people had been nothing but a wisp of smoke. _How the fuck is that possible?!_ We were left alone, the three men standing and staring at me in apparent shock, whilst I lay sprawled on my hands and knees. My poor tender wrist finally decided it had had enough abuse and buckled under me, toppling me to the side. I caught myself on my elbow, cursing in pain under my breath.

The men moved as if to rush forward but immediately lurched to a sudden stop when I threw myself back in a panic, scrambling away on my bottom.

"No! Don't - stay there! No touchy!" I glowered at the men, my breathing harsh and choppy. My right hand threaded through my curls and clutched at my head as I tried to take deep calming breaths. I eyed the men warily, refusing to take my eyes off them for a moment.

"Y'all plan on killing me then, or no? 'Cause I got places to go, people to see... Food to eat. Y'know the drill." I broke the silence awkwardly, chewing on my bottom lip. "And, well, I like being not dead. Kinda partial to that part to be honest."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Don't forget to follow, review, and favourite! Hope you enjoy x**

Chapter Six

No one moved. A slight breeze travelled through the air, ruffling their silky locks of hair like some creepy shampoo ad, yet they seemed frozen in time, no more alive than a statue.

"What the fuck..." I whispered under my breath, eyeing them critically. And all of a sudden, they were moving again, inching closer towards me. The dark haired man, Aro, lowered himself to the floor in a crouch, as if approaching a startled animal.

I watched him warily, my gaze switching between the three of them. The other two men were tensed but stood back, seemingly in an attempt to appear less of a threat.

"Oh, _cara mia._ We would never..." Aro trailed off, his voice taut with anguish. "We could never harm you." He dropped fully to his knees, mere inches in front of me. I stayed stiff, pressed against the stone wall as I stared him down in defiance.

"Yeah, well, forgive me if that doesn't inspire much confidence, considering events that occurred literally less than a minute ago." I bit out harshly, narrowed eyes locked onto the man's deep red iris'. "Who are you? Where am I? Please, just let me go."

"My name is Aro, _tesoro_." He said gently, noticing as my eyes flickered over to the two men behind him. "This is Caius and Marcus, I promise you, they will do you no harm. Would it be alright with you if they came a little closer?"

My jaw clenched and I nodded warily in agreement, I mean, it's not as if I'm not already screwed. They lowered themselves to their knees, dropping next to Aro, a little too close for comfort but not quite invading my personal space.

An image of Felix, effortlessly ripping my attacker's head from his shoulders as if it were nothing, flashed through my memory. I stared at the men as my brain ran through all possible scenarios and explanations. Somehow, it seemed highly unlikely that I'd stumbled upon some twisted X-men mutant kinda bullshit.

They straightened slightly as I cleared my sore throat, their posture's sharp and attentive.

"What are you?" My voice sounded rough and irritatingly emotional. It was my 'I'm definitely about to get screwed over by my anxiety but first, I need answers' voice.

It seemed they had both expected and dreaded this question, as they exchanged a look full of meaning. Yet no one spoke.

A small sob broke from my throat, despite my desperate attempts to hold it in, and I buried my face in my knees, my arms wrapped around my legs despite the overwhelming pain the movement caused me. "Please," I struggled to stop crying, "I don't- I don't understand." A gentle brush of a hand against my leg, caused my tear stained face to reappear from its hiding place amongst my knees. The hand belonged to the tall, dark haired man, Marcus. His brow furrowed as he realised what he did, and he withdrew his pale hand with a murmured apology.

I eyed him as he glanced at Aro and Caius, before he sighed heavily, running his hand through his long hair.

" _Piccola..._ What- What do you know of the supernatural?"

I let out a hysterical laugh, "That it's fictional?"

"Not so, I'm afraid. My brothers and I are living proof of it." Marcus paused at my teary expression of disbelief. "We are vampires, sweet one."

 _Vampires._

That one word elicited another terrified sob from my throat, and my chest tightened. Everything around me was unfocused, blurring into one very abstract image, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. My uninjured hand flew up to grasp at my chest. I could feel my heartbeat speeding relentlessly and beating out a harsh rhythm in my chest as I bit down another panicky sob. Worried voices spun in circles around me, bright splotches appearing in my vision.

I wasn't sure whether I was relieved or annoyed when my vision darkened and my eyes rolled up into my head, my body dropping into a dead faint. The last thing that my conscious body felt was the worried touch of ice cold hands catching me into a gentle hold.

A sharp, pungent aroma roused me from my dreamless rest, soft murmurs lulling me back to consciousness. My fuzzy mind briefly picked out the words, 'smelling salts', 'in shock', and 'overwhelmed'. I blinked away the blurriness from my eyes, my vision steadily sharpening with each waking moment.

"There we go, come on, up you get." A woman's voice comforted me, sitting me up and gently rubbing my back. A drink of water was raised to my lips and I struggled to swallow without tearing up from the pain.

" _Grazie,_ Gianna. That will be all."

And the comforting presence was gone. At least she'd left the water, though at this point I felt like some hard whiskey might be more effective. I rubbed at my temples with a shaky sigh, taking another sip of the drink. It only occurred to me after I'd drunk the whole glass that I could have just been drugged. My eyes snapped open with a vengeance, glaring furiously at the three men who still surrounded me. Creeps. Then my glare faltered as my brain caught up with me and lit up one word in full neon lights like the Vegas strip.

 _Vampires_. I paled as I bit my lip to muffle any gasp, whimper, or swear word that might have tried breaking free.

They must have realised what I was thinking, as they backed away, giving me some breathing space.

I took some deep breaths, breathing in, counting to ten, and then breathing out to the same count. My fingers shook a little as I did my best to calm my breathing down.

"This is so fucked up." I mumbled under my breath as I massaged my temples with shaky fingers. "Y-you realise how ridiculously insane this all sounds? Then again, I did just witness that huge dude quite-fuckin-literally _rip_ another dude's head off like he was cracking open a cold one, so hey, what the hell do I know, right?" I groaned into my hands.

"Aight," I looked up and eyed the three men as bravely as possible. They returned my look, all of their faces flickering between amused and apprehensive. Aro smiled and nodded at me in what I assumed was supposed to be encouragement, though only made me nervous (and a little horny, but in that scared as fuck sort of way where you know a person is dangerous as hell but like - _damn_.)

"Three things. One, I'mma need a little more proof of what y'all are saying. Two, I'll be needing some info and context to back up the proof, which better be concrete _as fuck_. And three, why are you telling me this? I'm assuming that your answer to number three will undoubtably provide an explanation as to why I've not yet become a blood bag. That's _if_ this whole vampire bullshit isn't just you lot fucking with the dumb American tourist." My chest wheezed a little as I practically word vomited a monologue at the men, barely pausing for breath.

There was a slight awkward silence as they seemed to digest my words, but after a moment or two, Aro broke out in peals of laughter.

"Oh, you are brilliant, _tesoro._ Truly magnificent." He sighed in delight, he red eyes bright. "Such fire, such bravery, even in the face of the unknown."

"Uh huh, right." I eyed him warily.

The grumpy looking blond man, Caius, smirked at me.

"Just what sort of proof would be satisfactory, _cara mia_?" Caius' deep voice rumbled in a curious (and frustratingly sexy) manner. Dick.

"I mean, as long as heads remain attached, wait - _no_ , as long as all body parts and limbs remain attached - then I guess in the most convincing way you can provide?"

Which apparently to Caius meant punching a literal crater into the beautiful stone flooring _with his bare hand_ , and zooming around the large throne-like room acting like a poor man's Barry Allen.

He blurred back to his position crouched in front of me, barely a silky strand of icy blond hair out of place. Aro and Marcus glared at him in annoyance as they eyed the fist-shaped crater in their previously undamaged stone floor.

"Truly? Of all the options at your disposal, you decided demolition was the best way forward." Marcus remarked dryly. Caius shot a mocking glare back at the taller man, mumbling something under his breath that I couldn't catch.

"Well, er, it was definitely convincing if that helps." I commented a little breathlessly, as my fingers gently examined the hole. I realised the stone had been practically pulverised by Caius' fist, when the grains of stone slipped through my fingers. "This is... Holy cow. Vampires are real? _Shit! Vampires are real!"_


End file.
